Fever
by EmeraldStar012
Summary: When ezio doesn't feel well who does he go to
1. Chapter 1

here was heat in Ezio's shoulder, but that was all. Every other part of him felt so cold, he could categorize his body by color. First, there was the bluish glacier white, which was what most of him felt like. Then there was the searing red of his shoulder, whence blood was trickling in a quiet, burning stream. He supposed that it burned so badly (really, it was its own pain) because of how cold the rest of him was, but the rest of him didn't _hurt_. Therefore, more than anything, the heat in his shoulder concerned him, though he also knew he should be concerned about his overall temperature. He had, after all, been swimming in the canals during a

winter, with guards searching the banks. He had been underwater for the better part of two hours. Thankfully the darkness of that water had obscured his blood and left no trail.

Under normal circumstances, Ezio would have taken the guards easily, but as it was he could not move his arm, nor reach the arrow that was both preventing the movement and causing the burning sensation in the first place. He'd had to wait until they were gone, thinking he had drowned, to haul himself out of the water. It was not a pleasant experience. While the air was above freezing, it was cold enough to discourage Ezio from offering too much of his body to the wind. He gasped and coughed as he pulled himself upon the bank. From there he mustered his energy and shivered his way toward Leonardo's workshop.

When he reached it, he pounded upon the door with a shaking fist. While waiting for Leonardo to come, he placed his hands over his face in an attempt to still his body. It did not work. All the cold went to his teeth, and he bit his tongue chattering them.

Leonardo opened the door after what seemed like an eternity. He looked at Ezio in surprise. "You look half-dead!" he said. "Come in, please. Your lips are blue. I'll get you something hot to drink."

Ezio felt like laughing, because Leonardo had not even noticed the arrow sticking out of his shoulder, and that was the reason Ezio had come. Maybe if he were able to take it out he could risk going to the , but with it in, it was too incriminating, and so he had fled to the only sanctuary he knew.

Ezio slipped past Leonardo into the workshop, and only when Ezio showed his back did Leonardo push him inside roughly and begin to talk about his shoulder. "God Almighty, what happened? Sit down, please. In that chair. No, the one without a back. What happened, Ezio?" He began to rush to gather medical supplies. Ezio opened his mouth to speak, but then Leonardo swore and called to someone harshly. "Enrico, get Ezio some hot lemon water. You like lemon water, don't you, Ezio?" He came to Ezio's side and began to peel back the cloth around his shoulder. He pulled it too harshly and Ezio winced. "I'm so sorry, my friend. Tell me what happened, please. Let me borrow your knife. Tell me what happened."

Ezio explained the situation as best he could. He left out the burning, but told about the cold. Leonardo was in the process of cutting away the cloth coiled around the arrow. It had soaked up some blood. Its removal pulled bits of coagulation away and the blood started fresh. Ezio felt it as a ray of heat. It felt welcome, however, so despite Leonardo's apologies, he did not mention anything.

"It's so cold," he said.

"Your skin here is very hot," Leonardo said.

"I am very cold," Ezio said.

Leonardo put the back of his hand to Ezio's forehead. "What a difference," he said. "Enrico, where is that lemon water?"

"Here, Maestro." A boy with dark hair came and delivered a steaming cup to the table. He quickly left again.

Leonardo handed the cup to Ezio. "Perhaps you should drink this before I work on your shoulder," he said.

"Perhaps you are right," Ezio said. He held the cup and over the course of the next few minutes drank its bitter contents down.

Leonardo wrote at his desk all the while. He occasionally glanced up at Ezio and looked at him with concern. Ezio was finishing the drink when Leonardo said, "I'm afraid you'll get a bad fever. You should spend a few days here."

Ezio shook his head. "I appreciate your hospitality, Leonardo, but I don't have the luxury of a few days. I have another target to kill."

Leonardo stood up. "Really, Ezio. How useful will you be when you're trembling so badly you cut yourself with your own weapons? At least rest here for the night. Tell me how you feel in the morning."

"All right."

"Now let me get that arrow out." He came near Ezio again. "If I rip your robe, you should be able to remove it and get into something dryer. I have a extra shirts and blankets." Absently he put his hand to Ezio's forehead again. "Still cold," he said, and then touching Ezio's shoulder, "and burning. What is this, Ezio? Why does your skin feel so hot here?"

"Is it infected?" Ezio turned his head to look. An infection would keep him down for days, maybe even weeks. Such time he could not afford to lose.

"It looks swollen. It might very well be infected, especially since you've been in the water so long. Can you move your arm?"

"No. I was thinking if you pulled out the arrow, I might be able to."

"This is a very deep wound, Ezio. I can't pull out the arrow until I establish how bad it is." He moved around to Ezio's front and reached to feel around his neck. Ezio felt uncomfortable, and pulled away before Leonardo could touch him. Leonardo looked down at him and opened his hands in exasperation. "Listen, Ezio. You have to trust me, all right? There are places around your neck that get swollen when you have an infection." He gestured to his own neck, near his jaw. "Will you let me check?"

Ezio nodded, and Leonardo proceeded. His fingers felt hot in comparison to Ezio's cold skin. Ezio felt heat rise to his face and wasn't sure he found it soothing.

"It's hard to tell," Leonardo was saying absently. Then he regained himself and said, "All right. I'm going to remove the arrow now. Be calm. The arrows the guards use here are inexpensive and won't stick."

Ezio calmed himself as he was told, but the sharp removal of the arrow still sent a shock of pain running through him. He gave a sharp cry and tried to move away.

"It's done, Ezio, it's done," Leonardo said. "How do you feel?"

"I would like to lie down," Ezio said. Weariness was suddenly beginning to rub at his arms, and Leonardo seemed to hear it in his voice.

"Would you like me to have a doctor come here?" he asked.

"That would be most appreciated," Ezio said.

"You might want to remove your assassin's robes, then," Leonardo said, "so that this place remains safe for you. Enrico"-he gestured to the boy who was lingering by the fireplace-"will bring you some fresh clothes. Perhaps just a shirt and some pants." He walked up to Enrico and placed some money in his hand. "This is for your hard work today," he said. "Return to your mother after you find Ezio some clothes and bedding."

"Thank you, Maestro!" Enrico said, and grinned.

Leonardo came back to Ezio and crouched before him. "You look like a wreck," he said with a small smile. "I will be back soon." He stood up and patted Ezio's arm, took a heavy cloak from the wall, and left. Ezio could only look at where Leonardo had touched him. The burning in his shoulder no longer seemed to matter, because his arm was scalding. He felt the unwelcome heat rise to his face again.

"Do you have a fever, Ser Ezio?" Enrico asked, coming forward.

"Yes, I think so," Ezio said, but his gaze remained fixed on his arm.

"Follow me, then, to the guest room, and I'll set you up with some warm blankets and a cool cloth."

Ezio looked at the door through which Leonardo had gone and then pulled himself to his feet to follow Enrico.


	2. Chapter 2

The guest room is cold, and the air smells salty. Ezio sits up in the bed and looks at the window. It is much than he remembers it being before. It extends from the floor to the ceiling and looks out upon a gray ocean with gray skies. Neither of these things belong to Venezia. The tips of all the waves are white. Ezio can see shadows beneath them, huge animals called whales that he's read about but never seen. He's never been far enough out in the sea before. He's been told they are like dolphins, only larger. There are dolphins in this gray ocean, too, though. He sees them dancing over the water. They are black and white and joyful.

The window is open. That's why it is cold. It's so cold that Ezio can see ice caps in the water. There are so many and they are so large that they could almost be considered a land mass, and he can see white bears on them, another animal he's read about but never seen. There are birds, too.

Ezio leans against the and looks down. He wonders when Leonardo moved his workshop to a cliff, because there's nothing but the ocean down below him. There isn't even a shore.

A cold gust of air suddenly rips into the room. It tears down the and kicks up the sheets on the bed. Ezio shudders. The air grabs him in his vulnerability and pulls him down, out of the window. He's falling for what seems like months, reaching for the window like he could go back to it if he tried hard enough, but the frigid waters are hitting his back and now he's underneath the waves.

He struggles to break the surface again, but something is holding onto his legs. He's being weighted down, dragged farther away from the light. He reaches out, clutching at his throat, choking on the water pouring in through his nose. He tries to call out. This is Leonardo's house. Leonardo should be able to hear him. But all that escapes his mouth is a huge bubble which quickly rises, and he can't breathe.

Someone says, "Stop for a moment. Let him go."

His legs are released. He kicks wildly and he's aware of creatures swimming around him. They are keeping their distance from him. He thinks they are intelligent. One of them must have spoken. These northern animals are frightening. He doesn't want to be where they are.

He manages to find air and he coughs and then he breathes. He's clutching something warm, and because the rest of him is shaking so badly he doesn't want to let go. He'll get hypothermia here. He'll die without this warmth. His jaw is moving up and down so quickly he's afraid to move his tongue. The clacking of his teeth is louder than the waves and the birds. His lips are numb, and it's already becoming harder to swim. But this piece of warm driftwood he's found is keeping him afloat. It is his only chance, so he clings to it.

There is no shore anywhere. His window is gone. The ice caps are gone. He does not know what to do.

"Can I start again?"

Ezio jerks around. Where is that voice coming from?

"Look, he seems to be aware. Perhaps we should try to warm him up first?"

"He will be sweating soon."

Ezio doesn't believe the voice that says such things. If he sweats it will be the sweat of death and the ocean will add its salt and nutrients to its everlasting brine. He puts his cheek against the driftwood. It calms him slightly, but the calm doesn't last.

"You hold him by the forearms. You, by the knees."

The driftwood turns to mud in his fingers and slips away beneath the water. In blind panic he puts his face down to try to see it in the black. That is his life dissolving away! He surfaces to breathe again, and suddenly a bear is dragging him by the wrists onto a small ice cap, which has reappeared. Ezio is terrified that he will be eaten. But the bear doesn't do anything except dig its claws into Ezio's lower arms and hold him to the ice. A whale comes and grabs hold of Ezio's legs with its teeth. There is heat. There is blood. Ezio grits his teeth, tries to coil into himself, but the bear and the whale are holding him too tightly, and the most he can do is rise upon his elbows and make noises of frustration.

"Be calm, Ezio."

Ezio tries, but salt is now being poured into a wound on his back. He cannot help but scream. He struggles underneath the bear. He feels his knee give under the pressure of the whale. He needs to hold onto something rather than being held himself. He is burning everywhere from the ice and wind and salt and tears are streaming from his eyes. His hands don't work. He uses all the strength in his abdomen to pull himself forward. Some of the salt spills over him. It is actually a liquid, which quickly dries. The whale, surprised, is pulled onto the ice cap. Ezio reaches toward one of the bear's paws with his mouth. He is going to bite the bear and free himself. But all he gets is a mouthful of fur, and no matter how hard he bites down on that, fur will not bleed. It feels oddly like cloth, but Ezio does not dwell on this. Liquid salt is being poured into him again, and he screams again through the bear's fur.

There is a part that is especially painful, and he manages to yank his foot out of the whale's mouth and kick it sharply in the eye. The whale gives an eerie shriek and disappears into the water. Ezio struggles. Something tears. Someone swears. Ezio is no longer biting at the bear. He is, in fact, the one swearing. His words are sluggish and slurred, but he is telling the bear and the whale in vicious Italian that their mothers are whores and they are bastard children. He tells them their fathers had sex with sheep. He tells them their fathers had sex with _them_. He spits and snarls and struggles with all his might, but it is no use.

The whale gets angry, but is calmed by the one now investigating Ezio's wound.

"Look at my face! It's bleeding! And this shit he's saying about my padre!"

Ezio is so confused and his strength is beginning to fail him. Despite the pain he is beginning to lose his grip on the reality that surrounds him: the sea, the salt air, the animals. He doesn't understand why the whale is speaking Italian. He has heard that the people of the far north speak a complicated language with words impossible to pronounce. He doesn't understand why this one knows Italian. Ezio is so confused. He moans and puts his head down on his arm. The bear keeps him from rolling onto his back.

"I'm looking at him right now, sorry. And can you blame him?"

For a while all Ezio can hear is the sound of the waves, and occasionally some words will come to him.

"He hasn't moved in a while."

"He's exhausted."

"Will he be okay?"

"The water here is terrible for wounds. It's all polluted."

Ezio hasn't noticed any pollution, just the cold.

"He could have rolled in shit and been better off. It was a good thing you came to me when you did."

The bear heaves a long sigh. Ezio manages to lift his head. He looks at the bear, and the bear looks down at him.

"Why, hello there, Ezio," the bear says. Its voice is very familiar.

"I'm bleeding," Ezio says. His mouth hangs open. His jaw feels very loose, as does his head. He is surprised that he can talk. His muscles no longer seem to work.

"Yes," says the bear. "Don't bite your tongue."

"Why?" Ezio says. It's becoming difficult for his neck to carry all the weight of his head. He rests his chin down on the ice, and this closes his mouth. For some reason the ice is very soft.

"What do you mean?"

Ezio rolls his head to the side so that he can continue talking. "I don't know," he says. Then he frowns. "The ice caps are melting. Aren't you scared?"

The bear looks confused. "What?"

"Is it summer or winter?"

"It's winter, Ezio."

"Then why is the ice melting?" He's worried because he doesn't want to go back into the water, and this bear is the only friend he has right now. He doesn't want it to drown either. He feels frustrated because the bear still doesn't understand. It looks at him in confusion. Ezio feels himself wanting to cry.

"Maybe spring is coming," says the bear.

"This far north there is no spring," Ezio says, and for a moment everything pauses.

The whale is lingering at the edge of the ice cap. "Where are you, Ezio?" it asks.

"Norvegia," Ezio says. "I think. You're so stupid, you don't even know your own country."

The burning comes back, but Ezio has little energy to struggle now. His hands flex. He grits his teeth. He makes a fair amount of noise and swears tiredly once or twice. His body, however, remains relatively still.

"Are we finished yet?" asks the whale.

"You will be," Ezio says.

The whale tells him to shut up. "I wasn't talking to you," it says.

"All we need to do is bandage him and turn him over," says the voice Ezio can't see. "Let the wound drain while he's on his back."

"You never said if he'll be okay or not."

"I think so. Just keep an eye on him. Common sense should tell you what to do."

"Right."

Something is wrapped around Ezio's torso and shoulder in a methodical manner, and he is no longer in so much pain. He is tired, and his battle with the elements has nearly destroyed him. He much prefers targets he can kill.

The bear releases one of Ezio's arms and puts a paw on his back. "It's done, Ezio, it's done," it says. It gently grabs him by the wrists again and turns him over. The whale does the same with his legs. Ezio does not protest. He can't even move on his own. He lies with his neck exposed and sweating. His breathing is harsh. The sun has come out through the clouds and its heat is stifling.

Ezio feels a cool cloth wipe at his face. It scrubs at the tear stains on his cheeks and the dried water he must have coughed up when the bear saved him from drowning. It feels so good that Ezio opens his mouth and makes a tiny noise. For a moment, the cloth stops. The bear laughs and then the cloth moves on, to Ezio's neck and front. Then it is gone, all too soon. Ezio wishes he could say something to make it come back.

"I'll be amazed if he isn't disoriented when he wakes up," Ezio hears. "Norvegia? That is true delirium. Call me if he gets worse, like if his fever spikes or his hallucinations come back."

"Thank you, doctor," the bear says. He says it to the water. The whale leaves. The ice cap becomes a shore with sand, and then a bed. The bear gets off of it and touches Ezio's arm. "Do you need water?"

"What?" Ezio asks. He's barely audible.

"Are you thirsty?"

"No."

"All right. I'll take you back to Venezia now. Call for Leonardo if you need anything."

Then the bear leaves.


End file.
